Lexicon
by Orchid Butterflies
Summary: Filling the book that was to be his weapon would not be a simple task, but Zexion firmly believed he would succeed. Drabble series; No pairings; Canon-verse
1. Emotion

**A/N:** The publication of this does not take me off of hiatus. I don't know how long it will be between updates, but do know that I am in fact writing again. In a very very minimal way. That being said, this story is a bit different than my others, mainly due to the fact that it will not have any pairings. LOLWHUT!? Yeah, you heard me.

Simply put, this is a drabble series, and as such, none of these are going to ultimately weave any sort of storyline. I hope you enjoy it for what it is, regardless.

* * *

_Emotions. They are the most useless addition to the human psyche. They cloud one's judgment during pivotal moments, ultimately leaving oneself exposed to both mental and physical pain. For what purpose do anger or fear or love or hate serve? _

Zexion paused a moment, lifting the pen from the Lexicon. Love. What a foreign word. He said it, muttered it, shouted it, but any way it was vocalized, it left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. What was so special about the word? Many great men and women had met their end for the sake of this deceptively simplistic word. As he thought about it, he realized that love was not that impressive of a word. One syllable; two vowels, two consonants, totaling four letters. Alas, authors would describe it as butterflies fluttering in the stomach, the heart clenching at the sight/sound/touch of the object of ones affections. Shaking his head, Zexion's pen met paper once more, and he continued writing.

_Emotions continue to be the bane of any existence. To be in battle, and have terror suddenly grip the heart, one would, without question, suffer defeat. The very same concepts apply to love; the very moment one falls in love, they immediately are left open, weak, vulnerable._

There was that word again. Zexion glared at his right hand for a moment, damning it for writing that perplexing word. And yet... Grey eyes drifted upwards, slowing following the slopes and curves of the architecture surrounding him as he resumed his musings of love. No matter how many times he thought it, spoke it, wrote it, he would never understand the word. Eyes dropping back to the paper, he scanned his last sentence before pressing onward.

_Alas, Nobodies do not possess hearts. We are completely unhindered by the complexities of the human heart – or so we foolishly believe. In reality, the mind casts an illusion on the body, making a Nobody falsely perceive that what they 'feel' is actual. On some subconscious level, we recall what it was like to feel when we were alive – when we were human. Yes, we have pseudo-emotions, but beyond, there continues to be nothing. Emotions are useless. Worthless. Yet, we strive to recover our hearts. We desire to feel real emotions once more. To once more 'exist'. This, I believe, is a truly ludicrous idea._

Zexion set down his quill and read over what he'd written, mouthing the words as he went. Snorting, he slammed the Lexicon shut and stood, chair scraping noisily on the tile as it was pushed backwards. Emotions. What an idiotic – childish, even – topic to deal with. But, it was his job to fill the Lexicon, and emotion was the first item on the list Xemnas had given him upon discovery of the book, followed by an entry on Heartless, then one on Nobodies.

But that was enough on that subject for now – Zexion was tired, and as such, headed for bed.

* * *

Reviews are always, always loved. 3


	2. Heartless

One could never quite tell when dawn broke in the World that Never Was. Everyone woke at different times, simply due to the lack of a sunrise and sunset.; it was, instead, the fluctuations in the weather that set the time of day. Zexion always rose when the rain was pouring the heaviest, and was really the only one that did so; for some members, it was the middle of the day – for others, it was time for bed.

Waking up was not a particularly difficult task for Zexion, but his 'morning ritual' was considered incomplete without a cup of lemon tea before he attended to his duties. The first order of business, after obtaining his obligatory cup of tea, was to reread his Lexicon entry from the previous day. He pulled out his chair and sat, setting his tea down to the left of the Lexicon before opening the massive book.

_Emotions are useless. Worthless. Yet, we strive to recover our hearts. We desire to feel real emotions once more. To once more 'exist'. This, I believe, is a truly ludicrous idea._

Humming in approval to himself, Zexion skimmed over the line once more before turning the page. Dipping his quill into the ink, the sharp tip met coarse paper and from it flowed the Cloaked Schemer's calligraphic handwriting.

_Shadows – dark figures and images cast upon the ground by an entity intercepting the light. In a world long ago lost in the passage of time, a shadow could – nay, _would_ never__ be considered a sentient being. But it is from this darkness that the Heartless were born; it is from the shadows in the human heart that these dark beings emerged. _

_Now, the squiggling, squirming black bodies writhe in swarms of hundreds, able to dissolve into the ground on a whim, making one utterly unidentifiable from another. They bring death and destruction to all those that happen across their path, swallowing everything from single beings to entire worlds into their infinite abyss. It is in doing so that more Heartless are created._

_In the beginning days of Organization XIII, we longed to control these dark entities; perhaps this was a lingering desire from our human days, days spent tirelessly researching the heart under the close supervision of Ansem the Wise. _

Zexion paused, laying his pen in the fold of the book and reaching for his tea. What was it exactly that they had wanted back then? What was their purpose for every effort thrown into researching these harbingers of chaos? Slowly sipping at his tea, he mulled over this for several moments, yet not a single answer arose from the recesses of his mind.

_The questions swarming my mind prove to be rhetorical._

_To conclude, in order to become a Heartless, one must first die, and to be killed by a Heartless is truly the worst way to die. Though, it is from the creation of a Heartless that a Nobody is born – a being that lacks all form of emotion, a being that was never meant to be. _

With a sigh, Zexion lay aside his pen and closed the immense tome. There were other duties to which he needed to attend.

* * *

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


	3. Properties

Exhausted from the day's follies, Zexion sunk into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his grey eyes. It had been awhile since his previous mission, and he had all but forgotten how truly tiring each one could be. Sitting up, he focused his gaze on the Lexicon. Anticipation filled him as he imagined just how much simpler a given mission would be when he completed the book.

Opening the book, he penned a single line inside the cover.

_After discovering the magical properties that this Lexicon holds, I, Number VI in Organization XIII, Zexion, The Cloaked Schemer, shall harness and use these abilities to their maximum potential upon the completion of this book._

Sinking back down in his chair, he closed his eyes. He was utterly exhausted, and was asleep within mere seconds.

* * *

Talk about short. Thanks to the people that've reviewed so far – I appreciate it in ways you wouldn't even begin to imagine. And of course, reviews are loved, as usual.


	4. Nobodies

**A/N:** I have a suggestion for you: If you like sexy guys, blood, guns, and violence, check out Dogs: Stray Dogs Howling in the Dark. Badou is love.

* * *

The first thing Zexion was consciously aware of was the gentle petter-patter of rain against the windows of the library. This startled him, as he was not aware he'd fallen asleep. Grey eyes opening wide, Zexion pushed himself up in his chair. Before him was his book, the cover open, and the single line he'd written however long ago glaring up at him. With a stretch and a yawn, he picked up his quill and turned to a blank page. Still weary, he began.

_As stated before, to lose one's heart equals death and from the proverbial ashes rises a shell of the being that once was. Now, this is where the subject of a Nobody truly perplexes me. Should one have been weak of heart, this shell becomes naught but a malformed, inhuman shape. These beings of in-between are exceedingly similar in behaviour to a Heartless – and, while a Heartless can be controlled by one engulfed in darkness, a low-level Nobody can be manipulated by another Nobody. _

_But, should one that was strong of heart have perished, the shell that is left behind will become animate, taking instead a human form. And, while these forms may be human in appearance, they lack one thing that separates them from denizens of the light: hearts. _

Zexion stifled yet another yawn as he pressed ever onward.

_In this way, Heartless and Nobodies are similar. Both species long for hearts, but each has their own uses for them. A Heartless is insatiable in its lust for hearts, clawing and ripping their way through anything and everything that should prevent them from getting a taste of what they desire. They feed off of hearts, subsist off them. A Nobody, on the other hand, wishes for that which they are missing. That is all they want, as meaningless as the end result may be. _

He felt like there was something more, something else he should be adding.

"There must be something I'm missing..." he muttered under his breath, slumping in his chair. It would be another five full minutes before the answer dawned on him: Abnormalities in the non-existence of a Nobody.

_Though it is rare, a Nobody can be created under variant circumstances. There are only two known cases of this occurring, and Organization XIII has apprehended both instances; the foremost being the memory witch, Naminé, and the latter being Number XIII: The Key of Destiny, otherwise known as Roxas. _

_Kairi, Naminé's Somebody (for in Organization XIII, we often refer to our original beings as our 'Somebody'), was what is known as a 'Princess of Heart', or a girl with an exceptionally strong heart and held as the authoritative figure in their originating world.__ As such, when Kairi lost her heart to one of her dearest friends, it was the fated Keybearer who was chosen to retain it, rendering her, through all technicality, a Heartless. _

_This spawned the Nobody, Naminé. Roxas was soon to follow._

_Finally, Sora had been reunited with his friends, only to discover soon thereafter that Riku had been possessed by a being that called himself Ansem and Kairi was lifeless, for her heart had been taken by the shadows._

_It was only through the subsequent discovery of the Reverse Keyblade that Sora released the hearts of the seven Princesses, thus reviving Kairi, but at the cost of his own existence. _

_Sora did in fact become a Heartless, and spent several moments in this state. Alas, his heart was too pure to remain a Heartless, and with the assistance of Kairi, he once more obtained a corporeal form. These key moments were crucial to the birth of Roxas, and Number XIII was later discovered lying unconscious in front of the abandoned manor in Twilight Town. _

Zexion yawned heavily, the action forcing him to stop what he was doing. '_Just a little more_,' he thought. '_I'm almost finished_.' The very thought filled his tired body with anxiety, for he really, _really_ just wanted to get to bed.

_Further investigation is required for Organization XIII as a whole to fully comprehend the existence of Naminé and Roxas._

_A Nobody is simply that which is not meant to exist, yet through some ironic and cruel act of fate, we continue to be. That is, until we fade once more into darkness, for it was from whence we came, and from whence we shall ultimately return._

Laying his quill beside the book, he wearily stood and practically staggered from the library. He was finally, _finally_ able to go to bed.

* * *

You know what to do, and as such, I truly hope you decide to leave me a review. I always, always appreciate it.

PS: "U. B. DESTROYED." -- Badou Nails.


	5. Interlude: Subjects

The chairs were so high up, Zexion thought, for he was in all reality a very short individual, and the height was actually very intimidating. But if he was worried ('_Worry? That's something that we seem to be lacking,_' he thought with a scoff.) he never showed it. Stone-faced, he listened quietly as the Superior began his rundown of the week's events.

"Number II, you failed your assigned mission. Could you please elaborate?" The cutting tone of their leader made everyone sit up straight in their seats – except for Number VIII, of course, because it seemed that he simply could not be bothered by the ongoings of the Organization. Whether this was bravery or foolishness – or even simple laziness – Zexion could not tell.

"Well, uh... there are a couple of things that kinda got in my way," Number II managed to get out after a moment. "You sent me to the Underworld, dude. Hades is frikkin' a nut case!" The Superior simply raised an eyebrow in question.

"This is why you were to peacefully negotiate with him. I assume, instead, that you simply marched in, guns blazing, and demanded his cooperation," Number II grumbled something incoherent and looked away, thereby ending the conversation. The Superior paused momentarily, presumably to collect his thoughts, before continuing. "Congratulations, Numbers III through XIII for promptly and successfully completing each mission assigned to you."

"Thank you, Superior." each one said, some simultaneously, others interspersed throughout. The Superior then fixed his gaze on Zexion.

"Number VI, how is the development of the Lexicon coming along?" Zexion had been expecting the question, and as such, had quickly prepared an answer.

"I have prepared the entries that you've requested, Sir," he stated, his words carefully chosen. "And I would like to know what my next subject is to be." There was silence in the room, as if everyone were waiting for the topic with bated breath. An almost sinister smile crept onto the Superior's face as he replied.

"Your next subjects... are the members of Organization XIII."

* * *

Oh ho', what have we here? The next few drabbles should be interesting. Please review – even but a sentence or two means a lot to me.


	6. Number IX

It was in the main gathering hall of Organization XIII that a single piece of paper was taped to the wall, reading as follows:

_All that have not been interviewed yet please report to the library as soon as possible. --Number VI_

Zexion had stopped to stare at his flier for a brief moment – as of yet, no one had shown up, and if this continued, he would undoubtedly face punishment from the Superior; the very thought made him cringe.

"Hey Zexion!" The voice that called to him was smooth, and cheery; Zexion quickly came to the conclusion that Number IX had, on some off-chance, located him. "Sorry I haven't come to that interview whatchamacallit – I've been totally swamped with these missions that Xemnas keeps giving us. Man, you'd think he'd lighten the workload or something, but geez, this is ridiculous!"

"Are you free at the moment?" Zexion questioned, tilting his head to the side. A smile broke onto Number IX's face, and he vigorously nodded.

"Yeah! So, like, I can do that interview thing now if you want." Zexion blinked once, twice, before turning on his heel and leading Number IX through the intricate hallways.

"By all means, sit anywhere you so desire," Zexion stated as they entered the library, his melodic voice soft. Number IX smiled and plopped into the nearest armchair as Zexion strode over to his book.

"Whatcha want to know?" Number IX asked as Zexion prepared his quill and hastily scribbled a few lines onto a blank page.

_Number IX: Demyx, The Melodious Nocturne_

_Male_

_Sitar, "Arpeggio" _

"If you would, I'd like to know a little about your Somebody. I would also like to know where you were found by the Superior, and if at all possible, your reasons for joining Organization XIII." It had to of been the most Zexion had ever said to Number IX; it wasn't that he was practically a hermit, as he almost lived in the library, but more due to the fact that Zexion's and Number IX's personalities were polar opposites, and as such, clashed on more than one occasion. This didn't seem to hinder Number IX in the slightest, as he delivered the requested information with an almost amused smile on his face.

_The information that Number IX gave me was not excruciatingly detailed, yet, it was just enough for the properties of this book to harness and use. Myde, as his Somebody was called, was a fairly average teenage boy; he went to school, got decent grades, and had dreams of much bigger and much better things. When telling me about when his world was swallowed into darkness, Number IX recalled that he was walking to school, guitar case slung over his shoulder; that the sun was out and the birds were singing. But then, it got dark, so dark, and the wind was blowing, and he couldn't see, and then he felt something sharp just tearing at his flesh, clawing at his chest – and then, he felt nothing._

_When he awoke, he was in front of the manor in Twilight Town. He didn't know where he was; he didn't know who he was. He just knew that he _was_. And, for the moment, that was enough for him._

_Number IX – who remained nameless at that point – had been living in the forest just outside of the town and was splashing about in a river buried deep within the trees when the Superior found him._

"_You do not feel the joy you once did," Number IX clearly remembered the Superior stating. "You do not feel at all."_

_Number IX, apparently, had no retaliation, and allowed the Superior to continue._

"_I can help you get it back – I can help you feel once more." As it was, this was enough for Number IX. The Superior assigned the nameless Nobody he'd found playing in the water the title of Number IX in Organization XIII, The Melodious Nocturne._

_And this was how Number IX, who is quite possibly the most 'light-hearted' of the Nobodies, came to be in Organization XIII. Though foolish and weak in appearance, Number IX has time and time again proven he's completely rational in thought and a very worthy adversary._

"Thank you very much, Number IX, for your cooperation." Zexion closed the Lexicon and stood, quickly ushering Number IX from the library, for he had other things to do.


	7. Interlude: Field Test

**A/N:** I have acquired a copy of 358/2 Days, and as such, have been hopelessly immersed in it. Upon seeing how Zexion attacks when he's not casting spells and fucking with your mind, I couldn't help but write this, since I laughed so freaking hard when I saw what he did.

* * *

Though incomplete, Zexion decided that he would take the Lexicon out for a brief field test. The mission was simple enough – he was to do reconnaissance in Twilight Town. There had been various sightings of a large Heartless, and he supposed that he was to scope out the danger level of this Heartless, to see whether or not it would pose a threat to the Organization's operations.

But Zexion decided very, very quickly that taking an incomplete weapon to the field was a terrifically bad idea. Upon arriving in the Station Heights, he was promptly assaulted by a mixture of several Pureblood and Emblem Heartless.

It should have been simple, but alas, it was not.

In an attempt to cast a simple Fire spell, something backfired in the translation from book to reality, and instead of fire, a bolt of lighting spawned from the sky. This wouldn't have been so bad, had it actually hit the attacking Heartless, instead of striking Zexion where he stood. Fortunate for him, the voltage was low, and he suffered only minor damage. Upon stumbling back and regaining his balance, he quickly decided that persistence was the best course of action.

He found that casting Blizzard, instead of Fire, was in fact the worse choice, for it ultimately resulted in him being lit on fire by his own weapon.

Stripped of his cloak, he stood before the Heartless in the white, long-sleeved undershirt he opted to wear underneath the cloak, as well as his uniform black pants and boots. He felt almost naked without the cloak, as there was rarely a day he could be found without it. The aforementioned Heartless were quickly advancing, though, and with magic out of the question, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He grasped the incomplete Lexicon, raised it high over his head, and bashed the Heartless over the head with it.

When Zexion returned to his library later that night, he gently set the Lexicon down, opened it, and picked up his quill.

_Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT, take this book out without first filling every page. The impromptu field test today resulted in being electrocuted and having my Organization cloak set on fire and rendered completely unwearable. _

Having said this, he slammed the book shut and fainted, for bludgeoning Heartless to death took much, much more strength than Zexion had.


	8. Number V

**A/N:** Thank you to all that have read and reviewed so far – I read and enjoy every review. I wish I had the time to reply to them, but I barely have time to type up each new drabble as it is. Thank you thank you thank you everyone.

* * *

One of Zexion's favorite activities was to relax in the library, curled up on the couch with his cup of lemon tea and a decent book. His book of choice on this particular day was _The Hunchback of Notre Dame, _a novel he'd found to be intriguing in many ways. He was about two-thirds of the way through the work, and he simply couldn't bear to stop, especially since he was so close to the end. This resulted in him shoving all his assignments and required activities to the metaphorical back burner in lieu of finishing the work.

As such, the lexicon was lying several feet away, opened to the page he'd last worked on – Number IX, he believed, though it could have been something else entirely – whilst he turned each page of his novel, enthralled by the text. In fact, his attention was so focused on the book by itself, that he did not notice the sudden arrival of Number V via dark portal. Several silent minutes passed, in which Number V spent merely staring at one of the smallest members of the Organization. It wasn't until the larger man had become impatient, cleared his throat, and called out to Zexion did he even realize the other's presence.

"Ienzo," he said, for he had never quite adapted to calling any of the original six by their new names, opting instead to call each by the given name of their Somebody. "Whatever happened to working on the Lexicon?" The vocalization gave Zexion quite the start, though, as he jumped several inches off the couch and his book quickly fluttered noisily to the floor.

"I apologize," Zexion muttered, hand placed over where his heart should have been – should he have possessed a heart, it would have been an attempt at calming the frantic and erratic beating. But the sensation was completely absent, and so, the gesture was utterly meaningless.

"I assume you're here for the interview?" It was a question – one that was answered by a simple nod on Number V's part. After successfully calming his nerves, he scooted off the couch, the sound of his clothes rustling amplified by the spacious library, and with feline-like grace, strode over to his chair, sitting once more.

_Number V: Lexaeus, The Silent Hero_

_Male_

_Axe-Sword, "Torn Heaven"_

"There is little about me that you do not already know, Ienzo," Number V stated, his voice steady, calm – monotonous, even. Zexion only shrugged, dipping his quill in ink before beginning.

_As Number V stated, there is very little that I do not know about him. But, in order to keep his section as truthful as possible, I feel his presence is a necessity, merely for verification of the facts._

_Aeleus, like myself, was an assistant to Ansem the Wise. The six of us gathered from varying worlds, Aeleus originating from a desert-like world – though even now, he refuses to relinquish the name of this place._

_The Somebody, Aeleus, and the Nobody, Lexaeus, are completely synonymous in behaviour; to know one is to know the other._

_Number V recalled precisely the details of the very night that all six of Ansem the Wise's laboratory assistants were claimed by darkness, and upon describing the event, I realized that the experience was not unlike my own. He was working diligently, studying something or another – this was the only detail he refused to tell me, as we were all very secretive and kept all our progress from one another, a habit I assume is now quite ingrained into his mind – when there was a low rumble and suddenly the glass of the massive windows surrounding us exploded inwards. Not one of us escaped the intensity of the blast – Aeleus included. Bleeding, he remembered crawling towards the door in an effort to escape and find help._

_He managed to crawl a distance of three feet before there was blinding pain, then, nothing._

_Number V says that I know the rest – and I do, for all six of us woke up to familiar yet unfamiliar faces around us in a world that we did not recognize. It was not until later that the Organization was formed, a memory that I share with Number V, along with the others of the original six, and the details of which I find irrelevant and therefore will not pen._

Zexion moved back to allow Number V to read over the writings; Number V quickly approved, and the lexicon was closed.

"I thank you for your cooperation," Zexion stated, moving to pick up his book. As Number V was fading into the darkness of the dark portal, he said something that was nearly lost. It was only through the movement of his lips that Zexion knew what was said.

"Remember _lasciate ogni speranza_."

And with that, Number V was gone. Zexion's eyes were wide with what would have been shock, had he really been able to feel it. After a moment of dead silence, he moved to pick up his book and sat once more on the couch, curling up once more in the corner and picking up from where he'd left off.

* * *

Trivia Time! From what book did the above phrase originate, and what does it translate to?


End file.
